


Washed-up Lighthouse

by UnicornMillie21



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: But also heavy comfort, But not between Simon and Baz, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Getting Together, Heavy Angst, Hugging, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, ish, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24254686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnicornMillie21/pseuds/UnicornMillie21
Summary: It’s towards the end of eighth year when Simon gets his first boyfriend. It hurts more than I thought it would. More than Agatha, even. Probably because the boy (fucking Tyler) looks just like me.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 15
Kudos: 170





	Washed-up Lighthouse

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I wrote this at 12:47 in the morning and it is not the best but I still felt like I should post it. Also very heavy angst because I was in a Mood but DON'T WORRY it gets better. Hopefully.

BAZ

It’s towards the end of eighth year when Simon gets his first boyfriend. It hurts more than I thought it would. More than Agatha, even. Probably because the boy (fucking  _ Tyler _ ) looks just like me. So much so, that I can almost imagine it’s me in his arms, that when I look at them together it looks like one of my daydreams come alive and that  _ hurts _ .

This… situation is only made worse by the fact that I thought I was finally getting over him. No, not getting over him, but at least on the right track. I’ve worked so hard to cut him out of my life almost completely. To tastefully ignore him even as he lies only a few feet away from me. I don’t even bully him anymore. He’s recently stopped bullying me back. I hate it. Fuck, I  _ hate it _ . Sometimes I think of lighting a match and setting myself aflame just to get rid of this horrible ache in my chest.

The boyfriend, Tyler, smells like cigarettes, or at least that’s what I’ve been able to parse from my accidental eavesdropping on Bunce and Snow last week. And he tastes like smoke, too. This discovery isn’t helping my self-destructive thoughts. Instead, all I can think is that I would taste like smoke, too if I was on fire. That maybe Simon would like me better that way.

Anyway, I never thought I had a chance, but I never thought I’d have to be jealous of a  _ Tyler _ .

(I never thought it would— _ could _ hurt this much.)

SIMON

The ring of smoke that slips from Tyler’s mouth is the same pale grey as Baz’s eyes. Baz’s eyes which I can feel on my back. I bet he finds me disgusting. He seems like the homophobic type. His family, at least. Not that he wouldn’t find me disgusting even if I weren’t—whatever I am.

Tyler grabs my wrist and yanks me toward him, throwing his arm around my shoulders. The scratchy fabric of his jacket rubs against my neck. It’s irritating, but it’s something else to focus on. His cigarette breath comes out in hot puffs against my ear.

I know Baz’s eyes are narrowing now, from all the way across the dining hall. I know without even turning around. I hate that I know that. I hate that I’m so obsessed with him. I hate that I don’t hate him. I hate that I want to slip loose from Tyler’s suffocating hold and just—throw myself at him, wrap my arms and legs around him like a koala and never let go. Breathe in his sweet, clean cedar and bergamot smell and breathe out this putrid smoke that’s making it so hard to breathe.

Tyler, almost like he knows I’m thinking about Baz again, palms the back of my head again, his sharp rings digging into my skull, and pulls me forward, smashing his mouth into mine. My heart starts to quicken and I resist the urge to recoil. He won’t like it if I pull away. I shouldn’t.  _ Toughen up, Simon _ .

_ (I just wish he weren’t always so  _ rough _ with me.) _

BAZ

It’s not only that he looks like me that makes it worse. It’s that Tyler’s so fucking real.

With Agatha, at least, it felt normal. It felt, at least somewhat,  _ right _ . I’ve always known Agatha. She hurt, too, of course, but she was the safe kind of hurt. We, Simon, Agatha, our friends, and I, all grew up in the same bubble. It felt familiar. It just  _ was _ .

But Tyler. He’s different. He’s a boy, for one. And he’s loud and brash and tough. He bares his teeth and skips all his classes and, if asked who Mozart was, would probably say something along the lines of a vegetable. He’s so bloody horrible.

But that’s the thing. That’s what makes this so much worse. He’s so  _ real _ . And if he’s real, that means Snow had to look at him, see everything bad about him, and want him. Not want him because it’s part of their storybook plan or because of destiny. Just  _ want him _ . 

Tyler sticks his tongue down Simon’s throat. I wouldn’t touch him like that, like he’s some sort of object to be manhandled. I would whisper sweet things to him in Latin he doesn’t understand and kiss his forehead and call him  _ love _ . I look away.

( _ I want to be wanted. _ )

SIMON   
  


He’s yelling at me. Tyler. I don’t even really know why. I think I might’ve not been paying enough attention to him, which is horrible of me. He deserves better than that. I need to make it up to him.

“—this  _ bullshit _ . I just can’t put up with this anymore,” he says, meeting my eyes. His lip is curled in a snarl. (He doesn’t look half as pretty as Baz, doing it.) My heart drops. “You understand, right, Simon? That this just isn’t okay?”

“Y-Yes, I—I’m so sorry. I wasn’t—I shouldn’t’ve—” Fuck.  _ Fuck. _ How do I fucking  _ breathe _ ? “Just—please.  _ Please _ , don’t leave me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Tyler smiles, then, and it looks a lot like his snarl. He kisses the top of my head and murmurs in a saccharine-sweet voice, “Thank you, Simon. That’s all I wanted. I’m only trying to help you be better, sweetheart.”

“I know,” I breathe, smiling as relief washes over me.  _ He’s not leaving _ . If he leaves, I won’t have anyone. Agatha doesn’t talk to me anymore and Penny’s mum pulled her to be homeschooled after the last Humdrum incident. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better, I promise.”

He nods and tells me he has something to do, which probably means he’s going out to get another pack of cigarettes, leaving me alone in his room. He doesn’t have a roommate. He did, for a bit, but I’m pretty sure they requested to switch. That makes me kind of embarrassed, that I’m dating someone whose roommate felt the need to do that, but I know I have no right to be embarrassed. Not after all he’s done for me.

Penny would tell me that’s an unhealthy thought to have. That I should never feel compelled to stay with someone because I think I owe them something, but she’s not here right now. I know what me and Tyler are doing probably isn’t okay and it hurts and it makes me feel stupid and gross but I don’t want to be all alone.

Lately, it feels like no one even acknowledges me anymore. Like I’m not even there. I go back to my room at night and Baz doesn’t say anything to me. He doesn’t even yell at me to close the window. I never open it anymore anyway. I don’t speak up in class anymore either, not that I did much of that before though. 

I tried to talk to Agatha a couple of days ago. I wanted to talk to her so bad. I wanted someone— _ anyone _ who wasn’t Tyler—to say something to me. To let me know that I’m not invisible, that I still matter to people. That Tyler’s not the only one who cares. Because right now, it feels like me and Tyler live alone in this dirty little bubble that keeps shrinking, pressing us closer and closer together and whenever I breathe, my lungs contract and they don’t expand again and so with every breath I take to survive I’m imploding in on myself, slowly but surely.

She brushed me off, gave me an almost pitying smile and walked away. I’d gone back to Tyler’s room and cried.

Baz’s air was always so clean, so full of oxygen that fueled my fire.

( _ I’m so scared. _ )

BAZ

The only person Simon’s every really around now is Tyler, except during classes. At first glance, it looks like Simon’s the clingy one, but Tyler leeches off of him like he’s sucking out all his energy. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was. Simon’s a lighthouse and he’s drinking his oil.

Neither of them ever really smile. I’m not sure if that’s worrying or not. I have no idea what a healthy, functioning relationship looks like.

Simon still looks like something I’d eat, but it’s different now. He’s paler and thinner and, if I’m being honest, he looks even worse than when he returns from the summer. I’m pretty sure that that at least is worrying. I don’t know what to do about it, though. I don’t even know if there’s anything I  _ can  _ do about it. I’m almost certain he doesn’t want me to help him. I don’t see the point in trying.

It must be past midnight when he tentatively says, “Baz?” as we’re lying in bed. It’s the first time I’ve really heard his voice in a month and I almost melt through the bed into the floor. Crowley, I missed it. I have to latch my fingers into the sheets of my bed to stop myself from hurling myself at him.

“What do you want, Snow?” I respond, tone carefully cold and void of any emotion. Reasonably, it would probably have made more sense for me to simply have not responded at all, but I’m weak.

“Sorry, never mind,” he says quickly, sounding scarily apologetic. He never used to apologize. The Simon from a month ago would’ve pinned me to the floor, magic filling the room, and screamed and stuttered and forced me to listen to him through sheer force of will. The Simon from now curls up into a ball and I think, maybe, cries. I wonder when he got so good at crying silently.

I don’t respond to that, but I keep staring at him. He’s got five small finger-shaped bruises along his collarbone. It doesn’t look like he’s slept in days. It doesn’t look like he’s been properly fed in  _ weeks _ . He looks so starved, emotionally and physically. I just want to bundle him up in my arms and feed him scones until the light in his eyes comes back and he smiles again.

I flip over so I can’t see him anymore.

( _ Please be okay _ .)

SIMON   
  


I miss Baz a lot.

He doesn’t talk to me anymore, not even to tell me I’m the worst Chosen One to ever be chosen. It’s not that I miss my daily dose of insults (I get those from Tyler), I just miss  _ him _ .

And I maybe also miss the insults. It was us, at least. It was familiar. Baz is a posh git but I’ve known him for eight years. I grew up with him by my side. He’s not scary. He doesn’t hurt me, not like Tyler does. He doesn’t make me feel guilty all the time. He was mean to me but it was a mutual thing. It was what we did. Tyler’s not on opposite sides of the war with me, this is just who he is.

I’ve come to terms with the fact that Tyler’s a terrible person, but that doesn’t mean I don’t need him. I still can’t escape. I think about it sometimes, of just leaving him. Of sitting with Baz instead, not even because I’m into him but just because—I mean, it’s  _ Baz _ . I never thought I’d say this but Baz makes me feel safe.

But just because I want to sit with Baz doesn’t mean Baz wants to sit with me. He made that very clear when I tried to talk to him last night. My only escape plan out the window. It’s okay, I guess. I’ll be fine.

I stopped really eating a week ago, except for a few snacks sometimes. Tyler didn’t force me to or anything but it just takes too much effort. I’m too tired. I saw Baz eating scones in the dining hall this morning, which is strange because I never see him eat. I bet if I’d kissed him right then, he would taste like sour cherry.

Tyler kisses me. I try not to cry.

( _ Someone help me. Anyone. Please. Notice me.) _

BAZ

I have to do something. Snow’s practically a ghost. He’s pale and always shivering and it seems like no one else sees him at all but me. He should never be cold. He’s the sun. He should be burning.

I’ve been making excuses for as to why he’s been slowly fading away for weeks but it’s obvious. It’s always been obvious. Tyler’s hurting him. And now that I’ve realized the blunt truth, I have to do something about it. It goes against my very nature to know that there is something out there hurting Simon and I am not doing anything to stop it.

Looking at him now, in elocution class, I can feel myself starting to panic. And I don’t know why I’ve decided to panic  _ now _ of all times considering I’ve had over a month to be panicking but I am because he looks so gaunt and frail and I’m so, so scared that he’ll never be that courageous fucking supernova ever again. That his light will never return. That he’ll be stuck as this cold, shattered person for the rest of his life. I’d still love him, of course I would, but it wouldn’t be the same.

I devise a plan during class and the moment the bell rings, I enact it.

Before Snow can slip out the door undetected like he’s been doing for the past month, I grab him by the wrist. He immediately flinches and looks back up at me with the widest, most fearful eyes that my heart drops into my stomach.  _ Fuck _ .

I drop his wrist and put both hands up. “I’m not going to hurt you, Snow. Simon. It’s okay. I just want to help.”

He eyes me, then, warily and somewhat disbelievingly. I almost catch a spark of his former self glimmering in his eye. “Really?”

“Yes, I promise. I’ll even swear it on magic if you need me to,” I say.

He shakes his head and quietly says, “S’okay.”

“So you’ll let me help you?”

He bites his lip and nods. I can tell he still doesn’t really believe I’ve suddenly decided to be kind, but I can also tell that he’ll take anything over going back to Tyler which is more than a little heartbreaking.

“Can I hold your hand?” I ask which is stupid and ridiculous but I really need to touch him. I need to know he’s still alive, still there.

His brows pull together, like he’s confused, but he hesitantly takes my hand. His hand’s warm.  _ Crowley, his hand’s warm _ . I’m so relieved I actually turn to grin at him. He still looks confused. Rightfully so, I suppose. I thought he would be an ice statue by now.

“So, what’re we doing?” he asks, quietly still.

“You’re coming back with me to our room,” I say firmly. “And we’ll talk and we’ll figure things out from there.”

“You… you know what the problem is, right? You know what’s going on?”

“Tyler?”

He shrinks inwards a bit at the name but nods. “I thought you might find out at some point. I… I hoped. Sorry.”

I frown. “Why are you apologizing?”

He flinches. “Sorry…”

I swallow and squeeze his hand. “Let’s go home, Simon.”

When we reach the top of Mummers Tower, I have him sit in bed (my bed) and tell him to sit still for a moment before bribing the cook to give me a plateful of scones and a tub of butter. I get some warm tea along the way.

Simon starts practically salivating when I return, and I gladly thrust everything at him. Just watching him devour the entire plate, crumbs spewing everywhere, is making me feel so much better.

I hand him the warm mug of tea, some sort of herbal type that should activate something happy in his brain, I think. He scoots to the side of the bed and pats the spot next to him. I sit down and he doesn’t say anything, just presses his cheek against my bicep. I can feel him shaking.

Before I can think better of it, I wrap my arms around him and pull him into my chest. He practically falls into me, burying his face in my jumper. I startle a bit when he starts basically inhaling lungfuls of me, but I don’t do anything to stop him. I hope I don’t smell bad.

I tangle a hand in his hair, combing through it gently, and I know I’m being soft with him but— _ Crowley _ , if anyone deserves it, it’s him. When he’s better, he’s going to want an explanation for this. I’m not sure what I’ll say.

After at least five minutes of just sitting like this, he pulls his face away to stuff himself with more scones. To my delight, he stays curled up against my side, one of his hands still curled in my sweater.

“Simon,” I finally say. “What happened with you and Tyler?”

He’s quiet for a long moment before he takes a deep breath and says, “He never—never hit me or anything like that, but he was always rough. And a lot of the time, I didn’t—” Snow makes a face. “—didn’t want to be doing what we were doing. He was mean to me, said all the mean things you did, but it was different. With you, it was annoying but okay. With him, it just made me feel disgusting.”

He shudders and I pull him closer, anger building inside of me.

“No one else talked to me after a while, and it was really scary. I actually thought someone had cast an invisibility spell on me when it first started happening.” His shoulders hunch up to his ears. “Turns out it was just that no one cared. I wasn’t special anymore now that I was dating someone like Tyler.

“I felt like I couldn’t breathe, like—like before I was a normal teenager who played football really badly and sucked at school and he turned me into this—this sad, little nothing  _ freak _ .” He spits out the last word like it’s poisonous and the moment he does, his shoulders slump and he quietly whispers, “Please don’t say anything mean, Baz.”

I almost cry right then and there at that. I wish I could take back every mean thing I’ve ever said to him.

“I won’t,” I whisper back, voice far too watery for my taste. “Can I go talk to him?” He tenses up and I say, “Just to make sure he doesn’t bother you anymore.”

His grip tightens on my jumper for a few seconds as he thinks before he releases it. “Okay, just… be careful.”

I nod and stand, reluctantly extricating myself from him. His eyes follow me as I leave.

SIMON

_ Baz, Baz, Baz, Baz, Baz _ .

He smells so nice, just like I’d remembered. There’s still smoke in my lungs, but there’s also cedar and bergamot now. His hair’s all soft, too, and his skin. I don’t know why he’s suddenly decided to be so nice to me, but I won’t complain either.

I feel freer now, too, than I have in a  _ long _ time. There was always this wound-up tightness in my chest, but I can feel it dissipating. I might be okay again. I hope so.

BAZ

When I return after having yelled at Tyler (“ _ What have you done to make him like this? He used to be a fire. He used to smile. Why did you hurt him? How could you hurt someone as golden as Simon Snow? _ ”), Simon sits up immediately, quickly asking, “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” I say. Not a lie. He  _ tried _ , but he failed.

He nods and then nods again and then shyly says, “Erm, could I get some more scones?”

“You can have anything you’d like,” I say because this is the Simon I know. Because he’s not all gone. Because there’s hope for him still and therefore there’s hope for me too.

I get him more scones and then I let him watch Frozen 2 on my contraband laptop and then I tell him I’ll set up FaceTimes with him and Penny and—

And he’s not okay yet, but it’s okay because he’s still the sun, and I’ll revolve around him until he burns me again, until his light consumes me. Because he’s not okay yet and I’d do anything to make him okay.

Because I love him, and that’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Ughh I wrapped things up too quickly but I'm not in like the same writing mood that I was last night (morning??) so I don't have the energy to fix it :(  
> Anyway, if you liked it please leave a comment or kudos because without those I have no motivation to write haha


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